


Eros

by irithyll



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse), Resident Evil - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Leon is smitten, Romance, There's an Assassins Creed crossover here if you squint, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2020-08-23 07:31:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20239072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irithyll/pseuds/irithyll
Summary: Leon's floored the first time he sees her - not because of the blood, but because of boundless blue of her eyes. He knows that falling for a patient is forbidden, but he finds that even prayer isn't enough to halt the inevitable.A series of drabbles in which healer!Leon tends to the wounds of misthios!Claire, inspired by illustrations by the lovelykefliboo.





	Eros

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kefliboo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kefliboo/gifts).

> A silly series of drabbles for @[kefliboo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kefliboo), inspired by her works that are enclosed below:
> 
> Please follow her on tumblr and reblog her [original post](https://kefliboo.tumblr.com/post/186945877126/one-of-my-friends-suggested-on-twitter-that-i-draw). :)

Leon's floored the first time he sees her.

She's tachypneic, breathing so hard and fast that he worries she might cause herself to faint. Her hand is curled into a fist and pressed against a gash that runs clean across her chest, but it isn't the generous coat of blood that cascades down the front of her armor that winds him, though he supposes it should. Gore doesn't bother him, not like it _used_ to anyway, and he doesn't even so much as wince at the deep laceration that splits the leather of her armor in two.

More rather, it's her _eyes _that take him by surprise - boundless blue and impossibly bright when she cracks open her eyelids despite the amount of blood that she's lost. Leon's breath hitches in his throat at the sight of them and he knows that getting attached to a patient is wrong, but he can't help himself.

Not when one is as stunning as she is, open wounds and dirty palms be damned.

"You're going to be alright." Leon whispers as begins to liberally saturate all the gauze he can get his hands on with a generous amount of antiseptic.

He's been told that she's a _misthios_ and he can't help but wonder what compels a woman like her to embark on such a rugged path. Unlike the other mercenaries he's seen, her skin is soft beneath his hands and he blushes as he cuts away the thick leather of her chest piece with his blade.

The bleeding shows no signs of stopping and he quickly gets to work, packing the laceration as best he can and applying pressure over the top of it once it's been filled. The press of his hands causes her to grunt and she winces below him, eyes still held shut as she reflexively wraps her hand around his forearm to persuade him to let up.

"I'm sorry." He tells her. "I have to stop the bleeding. I'm not trying to hurt you, I just…"

He falls silent when those long eyelashes part again and he's met with those captivating cerulean eyes. It's almost as though she's staring into his soul and breathing suddenly feels like a chore until she curls her lips into a small smile.

"Thank you." She murmurs, mustering as much energy as she can to speak before she falls into a state of unconsciousness.

Once the bleeding is stemmed, Leon brushes her dark bangs away from her sweat-soaked forehead and sighs with relief. He thinks he's saved her-_hopes_ he has-but he can't convince himself to sleep that night. Instead, he stays vigilant at her bedside, watching her chest rise and fall in the dim flicker of the oil lamp as it burns.

He tells himself that he would have done the same for any unfortunate _misthios_ who wound up on his doorstep and that it has nothing to do with the soft curves of her face or those damn blue eyes.

Leon also spends some extra time at the temple the next day, pleading the gods for forgiveness for his lie.

* * *

When she wakes, Leon is startled by the sound of her harsh gasp. She parts her cracked, parched lips and groans softly to herself as she attempts to sit upright. Leon is fast at her side with a careful hand pressed against her shoulder to keep her from rising.

"Please don't sit up." He hurriedly begs. "You're too wounded. Let me help you."

Her brows furrow in confusion but she acquiesces, falling back to the cot with as much grace as she can manage. She keeps her eyes closed as she runs a hand over her face in frustration.

"Where am I?" She asks and Leon is stunned by the way her voice causes warmth to trickle down his spine.

"Phokis." He answers simply. "You were wounded in battle, I assume."

Her eyes widen in shock and when she turns to face him, Leon feels his heart begin to race.

"Phokis?" She parrots and he nods, an action that causes her to slam her fist against the ground in frustration as she scowls.

"I need to find my brother." She explains. "Please, let me go. I was returning to Attika and I must ha-"

"You're hurt." Leon repeats. "You need to rest."

The _misthios_ frowns, but he remains steadfast in his insistence. As tempting as the bat of her eyelashes is, he cannot allow her to be reckless.

After all, he took an oath to do no harm.

"My brother needs my help." She reiterates, lips pulled into a petulant pout.

"You cannot help him if you're dead from hemorrhagic shock." He retorts with an amused smile.

The woman glares at him and he holds in a laugh.

"I concede." She grumbles. "But not for long."

* * *

"What do they call you, _misthios_?" He asks he pours her a bowl of soup.

She accepts the meal with eager hands and takes a healthy swig of the broth before she answers.

"Claire."

Leon likes the way it rolls off his tongue. It's an appropriately beautiful name for such a captivating woman and the thought makes a flush surface on his cheeks. He's grateful for the low light provided by the flame of the lamp and hopes that the shadows cast by the fire do well to hide his embarrassment.

"It is a lovely name." He compliments and she chews a mouthful of bread thoughtfully.

"Thank you." She speaks once she has swallowed. "And what is it that they call _you,_ healer?"

He doesn't know why he feels something stir in his loins. Leon attributes it to the tone of her voice or the way the dark shadows compliment the curves of her body that are made evident by the thin tunic that she wears. Regardless, he clears his throat and shifts his position before he answers.

"Leon." He tells her and the brightness of her wide smile makes him dizzy.

"Leon." She echoes and, for a minute, he thinks that his name is the most wonderful sound he's ever heard.

* * *

A few mornings later, he finds her drawing water from the well nearby. It nearly sends him into a state of panic and he rushes to her side to swiftly take the pail from her grasp.

"You shouldn't be lifting heavy things." He scolds and Claire lets her bangs fall into face to hide the way she rolls her eyes.

"I'm stronger than I look." She advises and stubbornly places her hands on her hips.

Leon feels flushed as his eyes fall to the flare of her hips.

"I-It's not about strength." He stutters. "It's about your wound."

The look on Claire's face hints that something is amiss and he drops the bucket into the water to approach her.

"My wound is fine." She mutters, but he isn't so convinced.

"Claire." He speaks her name like a parent scolding a child and she throws her hands up in the air in surrender.

He leads her back inside and motions toward his own cot. When she takes a seat upon it, he tells himself that the sight of her in his bed doesn't have an effect on him. As he peels back the collar of her tunic, he makes a pact with himself, promises that he won't use the image of her amidst his sheets to fuel his late night debauchery in a moment of weakness.

Before he can get ahead of himself, he spots the stain of crimson that leaks through her bandages and winces.

"You split your stitches." He says and she looks down at the soiled bandage at her chest.

"So I have." She confesses.

The air between them is thick, nearly tangible as he exposes the flesh of her sternum. He feels her gaze upon him as he blots at the wound with fresh gauze and he tries not to notice the press of her breast against his forearm. Leon works quickly, apologizes before he drives the curved needle through her flesh in order to close the wound once more.

Claire doesn't make a sound. There is nothing but her heavy breathing and the sound of the sutures pulling taut in her flesh. He feels her hot breath against his face and something even _hotter_ begins to burn between his thighs.

Leon quickly knots the thread and clips the end close to her skin.

"Please take it easy." He says breathlessly and hopes that she believes he's winded from the needlework and not her proximity.

"I will." She sheepishly promises as she pulls her tunic back into place.

Leon spends an awful long time at the temple that night.

* * *

Claire's laugh is not fitting for a _misthios._ It's airy and light, contagious and carefree, nothing like the harsh cackles of the guards she spars with. Leon watches with a strange sense of admiration as she effortlessly deflects one of the soldiers' blows with her sword.

"You're stronger than you look." The man compliments once he has yielded and Claire looks back at Leon with a cocky grin that makes him blush.

"The healer thinks I am made of glass." She teases and the guard guffaws.

"Perhaps you should spar her yourself, healer." He suggests and Leon trembles at the thought.

"My talents do not lie in combat." He insists, averting his gaze to the rustling leaves of the nearby olive tree.

He doesn't realize Claire has closed the distance between them until she's already pounced and knocks him off of the bench he's perched upon. Leon crashes against the dirt with an audible grunt and Claire presses her weight against him, legs positioned on either side of his hips as she effortlessly pins down his arms with her hands.

Blood beats loudly in his ears when he realizes her pelvis is brushing against his.

"Do you doubt my strength now?" She whispers huskily.

Leon holds his breath and lies as still as he can manage below her.

"Ah…"

He's speechless.

"I never…"

He watches her lower lip catch between her teeth as she smirks and he wonders if it's as soft as it seems.

"I never doubted you." Leon manages to croak.

Claire tilts her head to the side and she leans forward, causing the end of her ponytail to brush against his chest.

"Oh? I seem to remember otherwise."

Leon swallows hard, desperate for her to move.

"I was simply worried about your wound." He claims.

Claire laughs again and he thinks her presence is a punishment from the gods.

* * *

Leon takes his time removing the sutures from her skin. The gash has healed up nicely, perhaps better than any he has seen, and he feels oddly remorseful about it. A selfish part of him wishes it hadn't, but it isn't because he hopes for ill will to fall upon her.

No, Leon simply doesn't want her to leave, but he knows he can't hold her any longer. Claire is a _misthios_, a wanderer, a woman on a quest. She's been anxious to find her brother since the very moment she was dropped on his doorstep, so who was he to hold her hostage?

Truth be told, he has prayed for the gods to alter her fate. The life of a _misthios_ is often a short one and it pains him to imagine that she someday may not find herself at the hands of such a capable healer. He tries hard not to picture the image in his mind, but he's seen plenty of dead to know how she would look.

He hates it.

"Our parents died when we were young." She divulges as he pulls the final bit of thread from her chest. "We only have each other. I cannot leave him behind."

Leon nods, but it's not in understanding. Sibling love is something he cannot comprehend, as the gods had never granted his mother with a second child.

"I wish you safe travels, Claire."

He tries not to meet her eyes because he doesn't know if he can bear the sight of them. Instead, he helps her with her armor, deftly tying the laces at her back.

"Thank you for everything, Leon."

The sound of his name rolling off her lips causes him to pause mid-movement and he closes his eyes, replaying it in his mind again and again to commit it to memory.

"You're welcome."

When she turns to face him, he hurriedly looks away and finds interest in the frayed edge of the rug on his floor. Perhaps he should commission a new one or maybe he could le-

"Leon."

His face burns, but he makes a sound of acknowledgement to let her know that he hears her. He doesn't expect her to take his chin in her hands and he enjoys the feel of her callused fingers against his jaw more than he wants to admit. Claire turns his head so that his eyes meet hers and he momentarily thinks that he might cry.

"After I find my brother…"

Gods, she's beautiful. The way the sunlight filters through the window and shimmers in her eyes almost wounds him. He hates that she's chosen the life of a _misthios_ when she could live easily as the wife of a nobleman in the city because goddess knows she's pretty enough for it.

"...I'd like to return, if that's alright."

His heart skips a beat and his eyes go wide. Leon is stunned into silence and he wonders if he heard her correctly.

"...what?"

Claire laughs, hands still gently holding his face.

"I'll be back, Leon."

When she presses her mouth against his, Leon learns that he was wrong in his earlier estimate because her lips are even softer than they appear. He gasps into her mouth and she wraps her arm around his waist, pulling his body against hers and closing the distance between them. His hands come to rest on the cool surface of her armor and she playfully nips at his lower lip before pulling away.

"Wait for me." She says and Leon finds that he cannot speak, so he only nods.

That night, when he returns to the temple, he thanks the gods for their blessing.


End file.
